


Ghost In Your Heart

by nu_breed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s03e03 Bad Day at Black Rock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-22
Updated: 2007-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nu_breed/pseuds/nu_breed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more things change, the more they stay the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost In Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Coda to SPN 3x03. Thanks to F for the quickfire beta.

Sam's shoulder looks like shit when Dean digs the bullet out. Mangled and bleeding and all too damned familiar. His knees are skinned all to hell too, and Dean can't help but feel he's back to being the parent again, like all the times he patched him up when he was a kid. Sam was a clumsy fucking kid, too much length for him to know what to do with, always falling and tripping and being shot and strangled and... shit, Dean hates it.

Hates having to patch him up, hates the pain on his face when he does. Hates having to see Sam covered in bruises and marks.

Hates, oh God, fucking _despises_ the scars. That one in the middle of Sam's back that sits there like a tattoo and it's never going to fade, no matter how much Dean wishes it would. Going to stay there, discoloured and raised and every time Dean sees it he's going to see Sam falling, going to see himself giving in, calling the bitch to him and damning himself.

Permanent reminder of how screwed they are.

When Sam was a kid he thought Dean could do anything, probably thought he could make the sun come out if he wanted it to or turn rivers to chocolate or whatever it is that kids want at that age. Dean really doesn't remember what that was like at all.

Sam though, Sam had the luxury of innocence, at least for a while and he thought Dean could fix anything, but he was wrong.

_Can't fix this, Sammy. All fucked is what it is._

He hears Sam praying now. Every morning when he wakes up, muttered chanting under his breath. Sam doesn't just pray to God anymore, he prays to anyone who'll listen. He'd probably pray to the fucking devil if he thought it would make a difference. Hell, he's prepared to drop to his knees and beg that demon bitch for anything that he thinks will help.

Runs in the family after all, doesn't it?

"Do you think if that thing had found a way to kill me, you'd have gotten outta your deal?" Sam says, flinching as Dean rubs his shoulder with iodine.

"Sam," he warns, jaw clenching under the pressure.

"Just wondering," Sam says, matter-of-fact, like he's asking if Dean's hungry or if he wants a beer or something.

When Dean swallows, he can taste bile at the back of his throat.

Sam prays at night too. Prays with things other than words. Begs Dean with muted sighs and groans of pleasure for something that he just can't give him. Sam's hands and mouth on Dean's skin, hot and wet, like they're changing everything.

Dean lets himself consider for those moments that they are. Lets himself believe things he shouldn't when Sam's underneath him. Always face-to-face now, can't do it the other way anymore. Can't bear to look at that ugly scar, it made him choke back tears the last time and he had to lie, tell Sam he had to see his face instead so they couldn't that way, not anymore.

When they're just like this, fucking deep and hard and relentless, he lets himself believe like Sammy always did, that his big brother can fix anything.

Dean knows better. Knows he can't fix shit anymore and he hates it. Hates that Sam thinks he can, too.

Dean can't make Sam's scar disappear, just like Dean can't make this right.

He can't stay here with Sam forever, because he's on borrowed time. Can't be around to tend to Sam's shotgun wounds. Can't fix his grazed knees whenever he falls because he's too fucking clumsy not to, can't save him the green M & M's because they're his favourites.

The thing about it though is this: he can't bear to think about anyone else doing that for Sam either. Doesn't want to think about him waking up wrapped around someone else, hunting with them, and driving them crazy with his anal, control-freak shit and his horrible taste in music.

Can't even deal with fantasizing about it. He'd rather Sam die alone than find a replacement for him.

And if that isn't the most fucked-up, selfish thing ever, he doesn't know what is.

 

 

end


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